A Nightmare in Camp Blood
by MegaKiraraLover
Summary: Katherine "Maggie Burroughs" Krueger finds out about some killings in Camp Crystal Lake that resemble her father's work, so of course she goes to check it out. Too bad she has to run into the local killer of that area while investigating, huh? ONESHOTs
1. Articles and Arrivals

_A Nightmare in Camp Blood  
__...Sort Of_

Summary: Merely two years after she presumably killed her demon-holding, murderous birth father, Maggie Burroughs—now going by her birth name, Katherine "Kat" Krueger—finds an article about the nearby Camp Crystal Lake. A picture of one of the deceased and the fact that he died in his sleep tips Kat off to the fact that maybe her father isn't as dead as she had thought/hoped. So she packs up her meager belongings and heads off to investigate. Too bad she has no idea that another killer, one who stalks people when they are painfully awake, is in the area...or that he could very well kill her.

Disclaimer: Both the "Nightmare" and "Friday" series are not mine, no matter how much I wish I had control over Jason and/or Freddy...especially Jason. X3

Warning: Language, blood, violence, and the other normal warnings for any fic set in a horror movie world.

**Articles and Arrivals**

It was by chance that Katherine "Maggie Burroughs" Krueger found the news report about the latest killings at nearby Camp Crystal Lake. She had been hearing about them for years since she moved to Wisconsin, and nearly twice as many excuses as her own age, but never really put any stock into them other than absently deciding not to go there for her own safety (this thought earned her a dry grimace from herself, since she had clearly not cared about her safety nearly two years ago). But this report was different.

The mention of a kid seemingly dying while asleep made it slightly different

The side-note of a recent mass murder that seemed to involve quite a bit of fire caught her interest.

And the fact that a few of the victims seemed to have eerily familiar claw-like slashes finally made Katherine stare.

So it was that she packed up enough items for a good couple weeks at the camp that had been nicknamed Camp Blood, scowling and cursing the name of her father, whom she was 74% sure was behind at least a few of the killings. Damn if she wasn't going to at least check it out and maybe stop him if she could (again).

Or at least rebuke him before throwing another bomb at his undoubtedly smug face.

Only two days after seeing the report, Katherine was stepping out of her car with backpack on her shoulder, duffle bag in left hand, and a rather sharp pocket knife she had received a year before from Tracy (of course) in her right pocket ready to be used if needed. She glanced slowly around the area, taking in the dark tree cover, the seemingly-peaceful lake, and the decrepit old wooden huts/cabins. The whole feeling of the place was bizarre, like her body wanted her to be both relaxed and scared shitless at the same time. The last time she had felt this way was when she had been in the final "battle" with her father.

A shiver ran up Katherine's spine and her skin prickled with the sensation of being watched. She looked towards the trees, thinking she saw a flash of white, but after staring at the spot for a while she decided it was just a deer or something. She had seen a few on the road earlier after all; maybe they had followed her car to investigate the stranger or something.

"Get a grip," she muttered to herself, turning towards the cabin-huts to pick out one that wasn't likely to cave in on her (like the first she spotted clearly and violently had). "Stick with the plan. Get in, see if he's skulking around, then get out. Simple."

Simple. Yeah, right. Nothing in Katherine's life was ever "simple" from her birth up until last week when she ran into that gay sex party by accident on her way to find the place one of her ex-patients was currently staying.

_'It's in your blood,'_ a hauntingly familiar voice whispered in her mind.

Yup, Katherine's life was never normal. But who could be normal with a father like hers?

-Nightmare in Camp Blood-

Three days passed by without event for Katherine. She had no weird dreams involving burning men or boiler rooms; hardly any feelings of being openly watched (and she put many of these down to curious animals); and, hell, there hadn't even been a rainfall in the time she was there! It was annoyingly peaceful in the area.

But those thoughts quickly dispersed when in the early evening she began to take a long hike in the woods only to run into a surprisingly open area where a girl was being brutally stabbed with a large knife held by a man in tattered black/green(?) clothes and skin so dirty it looked black in the dim light.

The girl spotted her before the man and weakly cried out for help, stretching a bloodied arm in Katherine's direction, and the man's head suddenly jerked up and slightly sideways so he could lock dark eyes on the newcomer. He was wearing a hockey mask with red wing-like patterns and too many holes, held onto his head with what looked like belt buckles without care if they intercepted what little stringy hair was left to him. Two deep brown eyes, one slightly squinty and filmy, peered out of the mask with an emotion that was unidentifiable from the distance Katherine stood at.

"Please," the girl again said, voice even hoarser as she interrupted the blank staring contest between the masked man and the deadpan woman. "H-hel—URGMPHGURLGLEGURGLEGURG..."

That was the sound of the girl being stabbed one final time just below her neck and choking on her own blood, should anyone be curious.

Both Katherine and the man watched until the life drained out of the skimpily-dressed, blonde-haired, fake-boobed teen's features. The man only pulled out his knife when the girl's jaw went slack and no more gurgling was produced other than from the wound, which increased when the large knife (a machete?) was yanked without care from the corpse. Slowly, the man stood straight—revealing a height that towered over Katherine's 5'10" by at least a foot, likely more—and turned to stare at her again.

Katherine stared back.

For a long moment, there was silence before Katherine's face broke into exasperation.

"Oh fuck this!" she said, throwing her arms up in the air. Her at-times-limitless patience was spent, so much so that she didn't care that she was preparing to rant at a clearly deranged killer. She'd done it before, after all.

"Why is my luck so shitty! I mean, I'm born to that asshole, see him _strangle_ my mother, get amnesia, get adopted, have to be raised by goddamn _strangers_ without a _clue_, have to deal with idiot bullies at school and then just plain _idiots_ at work, discover my father's been possessed by fucking _demons_ and is killing scared-shitless kids _again_, learn the bastard has no fuckin' _idea_ that I wasn't the one to talk about him _murdering_ kids or Mom, then have to kick his demon ass because there was the _slight_ fucking chance he wouldn't kill me! Then to make matters worse, just _two years_ later, when I've _finally_ calmed down enough to get on with my life without freaking out over him getting to me or Tracy or Doc, I hear some fucking _dumbass_ reports that fit his MO. So, I get here to look for my _bastard_ of a father, and after three days of shit I run into a murderer _again_ and break down enough to rant to said killer even though he probably has no _fucking_ IDEA what I'm talking about!"

Huffing, Katherine began to slowly come down from her high, the red haze that had settled over her eyes when she was ranting and raving and gesturing wildly disappearing as a feeling of contentness fell over her. She had finally regained her breath when she saw the killer man standing exactly where he was before she had blacked (redded?) out in rage, seemingly trying to process everything she had just said.

A sigh escaped Katherine's throat and she reached up to cover her eyes with one hand, the other dangling uselessly at her side. "Alright, you can kill me now," she said with eerie calm. "Better you kill me for a good reason than Daddy Dearest just for fun or over a misunderstanding."

So Katherine waited for the machete to enter her gut.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, after what was about a full minute, Katherine yanked her hand away from her eyes. They widened when her gaze fell upon where the killer and victim had been.

Had been, because they both were gone. Only a large splash of bloodstained grass and bits of flesh remained.

"...what the hell just happened?" asked Katherine suddenly to no one and everyone, looking up at the sky with a scowl for answers. Of course, she received none, so she simply went back to the cabin more confused than she had been for quite some time.

...Sort Of.

_**READING THESE NOTES IS NOT NECESSARY TO UNDERSTAND THE STORY IN THE LEAST UNLESS YOU ARE ME. FEEL FREE TO SKIP THEM.**_

MKL's Post-Production Notes (8-12-11): Sooo yeah. I messed with the timelines a lot so that this story would be happening closer to present day, which ended up being 2009 if anyone's curious. I screwed around with the times between-movies for both series, although not so much where it was super important (like the gap between Nightmare-1 and Nightmare-2 necessary to kinda forget about Freddy, or the gap between Friday-4 and Friday-5 so Tommy Jarvis has time to turn into at least a teenager), to the point where I made a complete timeline. For those of you who are curious, here it is (and again not necessary to understand the story):

1955 - Freddy Krueger is born  
1970 - Jason Voorhees is born  
1981 - Jason "dies" ; Katherine "Kat" Krueger is born  
1984 - Kat is taken from Freddy ; Freddy is killed  
1992 - Friday the 13th  
1993 - Friday the 13th: Part 2/Part III  
1994 - Nightmare on Elm Street  
1995 - Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter  
1999 - Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Revenge  
2000 - Nightmare on Elm Street: Dream Warriors  
2001 - Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Master  
2002 - Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Child  
2005 - Friday the 13th: A New Beginning  
2006 - Friday the 13th: Jason Lives  
2007 - Friday the 13th: The New Blood/Jason Takes Manhattan ; Nightmare on Elm Street: Freddy's Dead  
2008 - Friday the 13th: Jason Goes to Hell  
2009 - Freddy vs. Jason ; A Nightmare in Camp Blood...Sort Of.

MKL's Post-Production Notes 2 (4-1-12): So as you can tell by the date above, this has been sitting in my computer for a while...it was originally going to be a full-length story but I don't know if I'm ever going to continue it (much like my IY/Bleach crossover for those of you who have read it) so I figured, "Meh...why not?" And so you can enjoy another Friday/Nightmare Oneshot. ^.^ Hope you enjoyed and tell me what you think~ ;)


	2. The Picture

_A Nightmare in Camp Blood  
__...Sort Of_

**The Picture**

It was two days later that Katherine spotted the mysterious man again. She had woken up nightmare-free feeling absolutely disgusting (going five days in the woods without a shower would do that) and decided her mission for the day would be to find a bathroom. So she threw on some of her recently-worn shorts and a tank top, grabbed her toiletries and a clean set of clothes, and ventured outside.

Only to almost run into the mysterious killer, whom was standing less than a foot away from the door and looking rather misplaced in the otherwise peaceful environment.

"Oh," said Katherine lamely when she regained her composure, blinking once at the tall man as she craned her neck up to look at his face...er...mask. Yep, this close he was obviously a foot taller than her—and smelled like something rotting, most likely because of the shitty state of his clothes and the dirt/blood/guts/whatever caked over almost every visible inch of his skin. "Hello..."

The man just stared down at her silently. For a moment, Katherine just stared up at him in return. Then, deciding that if he wasn't going to kill her she might as well be friendly, she gave a faint smile.

"My name's Katherine. Or Kat. Or whatever comes to mind. Just so long as you don't call me Princess, or Sweetheart, or Kit-Kat, or Bitch, I'm not very picky. Nice to meet you...?"

The man said nothing. He just continued to stare, although his visible eyes (the right one still squinting awkwardly) seemed to reflect his dumbfounded confusion.

"Alright then," Katherine slowly went on, giving up on receiving an answer. "Er. If you're here about what I saw, I'm not going to tell anyone. I honestly don't care as long as I'm not bleeding out myself, and she was clearly a skank or a slut or whatever they're called these days, based on her clothing or lack thereof."

The man's dumbfoundedness grew, although now the slightest hints of agreement and awe were visible in his gaze. He slowly nodded, making Katherine quirk a brow.

"Cool. So, Big Guy—no offense, but you are tall, and I don't have your name—there any working showers in this place or something? I haven't bathed in...well. It's been a while."

After a pause the man's gaze flickered to the side before he made a single gesture with his hand towards himself, then began to walk along the wake with slow, purposeful, lengthy strides. Katherine took this as an agreement and after a brief wonder at her clearly deteriorated mental state, she quickly followed to find shortly thereafter happily working if slightly rusty showers.

When she emerged clean and refreshed, the killer was nowhere in sight, which made Katherine torn between exasperation and relief. After all, she didn't necessarily enjoy putting herself in constant danger in the presence of a deranged killer...

...no matter how much her confrontations with her father suggested otherwise.

Katherine casually walked back the cabin, running a brush through her dark hair (she had noticed in a cracked mirror the dark blonde-brown roots were beginning to be too obvious to be written off and debated dying it again soon), only to stop short when she was in the doorway. Lo and behold, the killer was in her cabin, perched awkwardly on the bed opposite the one she had claimed and apparently closely examining a picture.

"Is that mine, or yours?" she carefully asked after she had put her things away. The man lifted his head before beckoning her over to look at it; Katherine walked over and instantly froze when she saw what picture it was. She had to use all of her willpower not to snatch it roughly out of his hand and hug it and cry like she had when she found it.

The killer-man was staring at her silently, eyes curious and thoughtful as he held out the picture to her. Katherine swallowed back her tears and shakily took it back. "Yes, that's...that's my birth family," she quietly agreed as her gaze heavily landed on the feared and loved and hated and cared-for picture she had discovered shortly after...well, she killed her father (again).

In the picture was her at three, likely shortly before the murder of her mother, grinning a toothy grin at the camera and tightly clutching a hand in her own as another rested on her shoulder. The one on her shoulder trailed up to an average woman with short brownish-red hair and a floral sundress, amber eyes sparkling brightly and proudly at the camera. The one clutched like a lifeline in her own arm led to a content-looking and admittedly handsome man with soft blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and a slightly hooked nose, lips turned in a faint smile as those eyes rested tenderly on the young version of her.

Katherine once more swallowed and blinked quickly in order to slow if not stop her tears. The man was watching her silently, simply taking in her reaction, not judging one way or another—simply watching with slight curiosity.

"Sorry; normally I'm not the crying type," she said after she gently put the picture away and recovered herself enough to pull on her sometimes distant-seeming...not mask, but default expression. Sort of. "What are you doing here, anyway? Trying to stalk me or something?"

The dry humor seemed lost on the man, who quickly shook his head in disagreement. Katherine stifled a smile (mostly because _hello_ he was a _killer_ and she should have probably been more worried/fearful about that than she was). "I'm not accusing you," the young woman continued, shifting her stance; she felt awkward standing, but she would probably feel even more awkward sitting on either bed in this circumstance. "Just curious. Are you here for a particular reason?"

After a pause, the man lifted one shoulder in a shrug, frown and slight confusion visible in his deep brown eyes. Katherine got the mental image of a confused and lost puppy that wasn't sure what to do in a new environment.

Shrugging herself, Katherine blew a lock of hair out of her face before turning to her bags once again, rifling through her backpack for something to do. She eventually came upon a book Doc had given her around the same time Tracy gave her the knife; a book about lucid dreaming and dreaming while technically awake.

With unnerving ease, Katherine was able to block out the presence of the killer sitting on the bed opposite her own, settling down with her book and carefully analyzing the words within it. Hours later she finally finished it again and set it aside, glancing at the other bed.

Of course, the man was already gone.

-Nightmare in Camp Blood...Sort Of.-

MKL's Post-Production Notes (5-22-12): So clearly this is no longer a Oneshot. I decided this story was better of as a series of oneshots, each technically able to be a seperate piece in and of itself but connected. I don't know how many more I'll add, when, or the length, but I figure if you just keep up an alert for this story everyone will be good and pleasently surprised if/when it continues. Thanks to those of you who already reviewed and I hope to get more...I'm always interested in what you readers say! :)


	3. Mother's Special Boy

_A Nightmare in Camp Blood  
__...Sort Of_

**Mother's Special Boy**

The next day found Katherine wandering the campsite once again, looking for something interesting to do. She figured that the killer she had seen twice now meant that her father wasn't in the area (he was a possessive man, after all, which she figured was part of the reason why he was so determined to get to her and all the residents of "his" house/street), but didn't want to go home for some reason. Something was pulling at her mentally, rather like when her father was in the real world and she instinctively knew where he was, only…less personal. And less bloodthirsty.

Towards her.

Hopefully.

Anyway, finally fed up with the constant mental tug, Katherine decided to make the otherwise uneventful day eventful by following it. Eventually she ended up in a curious cabin a bit away from and more cared for than the others, silently staring at the still lake. She decided it must have been a cabin the councilors had stayed in as she walked up and opened the door.

"You in here, Big Guy?" she called. There was absolutely no response—not even the wind greeted her words—so she carefully stepped in further. The front room was empty except a small, worn couch, a desk with a few old but cared-for children's books on it, and a TV that looked to have about an inch of dust on it.

"Why did I never notice this place before?" Katherine asked herself quietly as she walked further into the house. There was a door open on either side of her to reveal two completely different bedrooms: one seemingly a children's room with bright colored sheets, faded drawings on the walls from a child's hand, a short desk, and a bed with old Superman sheets and a small and tattered teddy bear on it; the other an adult's room, with only a twin-sized bed with plain blue coverings, a bookshelf with a few scattered books, and a set of drawers with a small box on top that presumably held jewelry.

Quickly realizing this wasn't so much a councilors' cabin as someone's old home, Katherine prepared to leave until she noticed the single closed door in front of her, with a sign on it in sloppy red crayon that read, "Mother's Room." _But wouldn't the adult-themed bedroom be the mother's room?_ wondered Katherine as she inched closer. She hesitated only a moment before putting her hand on the door with a wryly thought, _Why use common sense and caution now?_

The door swung open.

No one really could have expected what was inside, unless they were psychic or some creepers who watched this house's resident(s) for fun in their spare time enough to know the story about them. Katherine was neither of those things so she had no idea how to react when she saw the bathroom with its collapsed wall, which held a shrine of some sort complete with burning candles, a few items scattered on the floor that all seemed to be bloodstained, and…a woman's severed head…

"Holy fuck," Katherine swore, eyes wide as she stumbled back a little in surprise. She was perfectly prepared to run out of there, pack her things, and never look back no matter what suspicions she had, but something stopped her. A voice speaking from somewhere—an older woman's voice, a bit scratchy, faintly annoyed, but rather like her foster mom's in its mothering tone.

"_Why must everyone insist upon cursing?"_ the voice said, making Katherine freeze in place. _"Such a vulgar habit."_

"What…" Drifting off, Katherine looked over her shoulder and then back into the room, wide-eyed. "Is…there someone in there?"

There was a brief pause. _"Is she hearing things? I hope not. My darling Jason has no need to be fraternizing with someone who is delirious."_

"Jason?" echoed Katherine blankly before she recognized the name. "Jason…Voorhees, the kid who nearly drowned here in '81? The serial killer?"

"_You can hear me?"_ the voice asked, startled. Katherine bit back a snarky retort and merely nodded slowly, still looking around the room for the voice's source as she processed what she knew. According to the rumors, Jason Voorhees was the one killing all the teens around the lake—but he was dead as of 1995, killed by one of Katherine's old patients…but if he were still alive…then that would mean…

"_How surprising,"_ said the woman, considerably sweeter sounding than the scolding/dismissive tone from earlier. _"Come closer, Katherine. I'd like to get a good look at you."_

"How do you know my name?" Katherine first asked, shortly followed by, "Where are you?"

The woman chuckled softly. _"I know your name because Jason told me. He is quite confused by you. There aren't many who manage to meet him and come out alive. As for where I am…"_ Another chuckle, this one almost bitter. _"I've been right in front of you the whole time."_

Instantly Katherine's eyes darted around the area, but finally they rested on the only possible source for the voice: "You're…the head!"

"_Pamela Voorhees, dear,"_ said the woman's voice kindly as Katherine found herself slowly coming closer to the molted blonde-haired…corpse…without her mind's permission. _"But you may call me Pam."_

"How…why…" Katherine floundered for words. Pam chuckled once more at her confusion.

"_This lake is very special, dear Katherine. It is why I and my son have been able to continue protecting it and others for so long."_

The instant reaction from Katherine was mental outright denial. Honestly, this was all fairy tale stuff—zombies, ghosts, shrines to disembodied heads…but then again, she'd thought the same thing of demons and things that killed while you were asleep not too long ago, hadn't she? And she was proven so very wrong then…

"So the man I saw in the woods," Katherine slowly said, trying to wrap her head around her current goings-on, "the same one who visited me yesterday…he's…Jason Voorhees?"

"_That's right,"_ Pam said with obvious pride for her son. _"My special boy has decided that you don't need to die like so many others who come here. I can see why—you're a polite young woman when you're not taken by surprise, you show little to no fear for the unknown, and you are even rather pretty."_

Unable to stop herself from flushing, Katherine ducked her head a bit, embarrassed. "So then…you, erm, 'live' here? No offense."

Pam sighed softly. _"I've come to terms with my status as deceased. Luckily Jason has managed to keep himself in mostly one piece so he has yet to join me. No thanks to that infernal man who tortured my poor dear not too long ago…"_

Filing that bit of information away, Katherine moved to say more when she was suddenly seized by the throat, her airway instantly cut off. Her hands reached up to clutch and try and drag the fingers from around her neck, but they were strong, thick, and she could do little more than try and gasp as much as she could. It seemed Jason didn't take kindly to others intruding in his home.

As stars exploded and darkness began to creep, Katherine was suddenly dropped to the floor, where she landed dizzily on her hands and knees. It took a few moments for her to orient herself enough to be aware of Pam's shrill shouting: _"—JUST TRYING TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT WHERE SHE IS. YOU CAN'T BLAME HER FOR THAT, JASON! NOW, APPOLOGIZE TO THE GOOD GIRL AND HOPE SHE FORGIVES YOU, BECAUSE NOT MANY WILL FORGIVE AN ATTEMPT AT MURDER, _AS YOU WELL KNOW_!"_

Slowly climbing to her feet and turning as she did, Katherine saw that, indeed, the man she had now met twice was behind her, looking shocked and eventually apologetic for his actions as two brown eyes turned to her. Hesitating, he slowly bowed his head and shuffled his feet, reaching out slowly and patting Katherine's head like a puppy. Katherine blinked away her shock and disbelief before letting out a long sigh.

"Wouldn't be the first time I felt a murderer could be forgiven…" she admitted lightly, nodding at Jason. The brown eyes brightened instantly and Jason patted her head a bit rougher, making the shorter girl stumble a bit. "Whoa, careful, Big—er, Jason. Not all of us are immortal."

Jason's bright eyes were her only response.

-Nightmare in Camp Blood...Sort Of-

MKL's Post-Production Notes (6-6-12): Here's the next chapter. Thanks to those of you who are reviewing this; it's nice to know you all care. On a side-note, there's a few petitions out there to fight fanfiction's sudden deletion of stories for having "mature/forbidden content" no matter the rating put (lemons, extreme violence, lyrics, et cetera). Please send in a little email to the website, at least; every bit helps. :)


	4. Daddy Dearest

_A Nightmare in Camp Blood  
__...Sort Of_

**Daddy Dearest**

The days were calm at Camp Crystal Lake following the second near-death experience at the hands of a certain hockey-mask-wearing mass murderer. Katherine found the lake peaceful and serene (other than the occasional couple looking for a raunchy night in the forest—that was when she pulled out her earplugs and contemplated when exactly she had become so blasé about murder) and spent much of her time reading or going over old case files from her time as a psychiatrist. She soon found a shadow in Jason; it seemed that he enjoyed following her around as she did whatever she felt like and often made questioning gestures when he realized Katherine had no problems with explaining whatever he was curious about at the time.

Pam, apparently, had grown attached to Katherine as well. The two women often had conversations about things Jason could care less about—things having to do with the news from outside the camp and Katherine's existence before arriving at Camp Crystal Lake for the most part. More than happy to oblige, Katherine told the motherly killer about many things she had done throughout her life, from her job to the tragic death of her friends (without specifics) to the troubles of being a foster child (again without too many specifics) to what her past relationships had been like. Of course that was limited, but it was still interesting to have another female to talk to about it other than Tracy, who normally didn't give a fuck and never failed to tell her such.

At some point, though, Pam asked the question Katherine had been dreading.

"_You talk about many things, dear, but I have never once heard you mention your family__,"_ the spirit admitted. Katherine instantly tensed as her mind flashed back to memories of laughter, of hugs, of hide-and-seek—of blood, of pain, of death and blades and fire _Goodbye, Daddy,_ and a final kiss on the cheek— _"Will you tell me about them? __Are they as nice as you are?"_

Katherine flinched violently and let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she lounged next to the lake. She could feel the slight shift of Jason's stance over her shoulder, both watching the sun dip down and dye the sky a bloody red. The same red as the blood spilled—his skin, roasting, degrading before her eyes as the man's appearance shifted from the familiar handsome blond into a horrid mockery of her only remaining family…

The silence stretched for long enough that the bottom of the sun was beginning to disappear behind the treeline on the far side of the lake.

"I don't remember much of my birth parents," said Katherine finally, quietly. Pam and Jason were both silent (not that this was unusual for the giant man at all) and Katherine pulled her thick coat closer to her body. "My mother…died when I was three and shortly after, my father was accused of the crime and arrested…then murdered by the adults of the town when he was released as a free man."

Tears welled up in Katherine's eyes as she remembered the scene she had witnessed of her father, sitting in his workroom in the basement, looking over a photo album filled with pictures of her as a child playing, sitting, eating, laughing, crying. He was smoking a cigarette as he picked up a picture he had yet to put in it, one of her first school pictures; she smiled toothily at the camera with her favorite dark blue dress in place. He licked the back before placing it with care in the only open spot left in the book, staring at the finished product.

Footsteps and shouts echoed. He stood and turned to glare at the little window to the outside only for a molotov cocktail to break the glass and landed at his feet, making him cry out in shock; the bottle exploded, the flames spreading up his body, cigarette dropping from his mouth. The embers on the end stopped burning at almost the same time he collapsed, motionless, to the ground.

"I…was adopted a few months later," Katherine continued when she came back from the memory, shaking her head. Apparently she'd been lost in it for longer than she thought since the sun was now halfway hidden by the trees, the sky above and behind her a deep blue-purple with stars just starting to show. "I forgot about my life before it, eventually, probably because my mind couldn't handle the knowledge of both my parents dying such violent deaths so close together. My adoptive parents never told me…they both died in a car crash a little over two years ago. Mrs. Burroughs, she—she fell asleep at the wheel and the car sank into the Illinois River with both of them inside."

Again Katherine fell silent, this time for good since she was unwilling to go into further detail. It hurt, what had happened afterward; she would freely admit that if she hadn't had Tracy, Doc, and her past patients to lean on, she would have probably ended her life. As it was she was barely able to continue on with the lingering hope that perhaps she could make a difference.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder and Katherine looked up with a jerk to find the sun had finally disappeared. Jason moved while she was distracted to stand half in front of her, looking with concern and empathy in his eye(s); it was then that Katherine remembered that Pam had been killed, too. Who knows what had happened to his dad but since neither ever mentioned him, Katherine assumed it was a taboo subject.

"_I'm sorry,"_ said Pam, sounding honestly sad on Katherine's behalf. _"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories, dear. Are…you oka__y?"_

"I'm…I'll be fine," Katherine lied, bowing her head a bit. "I think I'll be headed to bed now…good night Jason, Pam."

After another moment Jason carefully patted Katherine's shoulder before turning and walking off, soon disappearing into the forest to presumably check the traps she knew he never failed to maintain. Pam's presence stayed with her just long enough to see her to bed before disappearing as well.

Feeling drained, Katherine closed her eyes, falling into an exhausted sleep.

-Nightmare in Camp Blood-

_She dreamed._

The boiler room was different without its master around to care, colder, darker. The fires that had once been stoked were reduced to embers, revealing the barest of ways along a metal walkway that led to a faintly lit area ahead. Katherine's feet began to move toward the light without her consent, not that she could stop herself in her daze.

The young woman was soon at the light and stopped short upon recognizing the small room with the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, softly illuminating the area. An old bed was in one corner, singed blankets ready to warm whomever slept within; a series of complicated levers and switches settled next to it, covered in a thin layer of dust (or was it ash?). The rest of that side of the room was bare, but across it and to Katherine's left was an old work bench, covered in wood and leather and tools with a clunky little TV from the 70s on one side. Katherine again began to walk without meaning to, ending up in front of the desk with one hand trailing along the wood.

The picture staring back up at her, alone in a book with burnt and singed pages and cover, taking up a whole page, was so achingly familiar. She was in the middle, aged three, wearing her favorite blue dress with toothy grin facing the camera. One side of the picture was almost completely burnt off, a feminine hand on her shoulder and the corner of a floral sundress the only remains of what had been there, and on the other side…

"Hello, Katherine," her father's image said with a Glasgow smile stretching his mouth from ear to ear. Katherine cried out in surprise, lunging backwards—icy cold arms clad in crimson and evergreen sleeves wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against a taller body, a distinctly male body, as hot breath burned her ear. It was all the girl could do not to start to cry when a wet tongue trailed along her earlobe with agonizing slowness before she managed to jerk herself away, slamming into the desk hard enough to instantly bruise.

Cackling laughter echoed from her previous captor as she whirled to catch sight of her father, Fredrick "Freddy" Krueger himself, the Nightmare of Elm Street. He bared his rotted teeth in a menacing mockery of a grin, clicking his knives together with a low screeching sound.

Freddy spread his arms wide, putting on an expression of exaggerated hurt on his face. "Awwww…doesn't Daddy get a hug from his favorite little Princess?"

Katherine was too busy staring at him in disbelief to answer his taunting, gaze flicking between his face and his glove as she tried to decide which would be in her best interest to focus on. The question was answered when Freddy's hand wrapped around her throat, the other trailing a single blade along the outline of her face.

"You look so much like your mother," cooed Freddy, sickeningly sweet. A hiss escaped Katherine when the blade cut into the skin just next to her ear without warning; Freddy's grin became a snarl. "The bitch _you_ loved more than ME!"

"That's—that's not," Katherine coughed, hands reaching up to scrabble at her father's wrist in an attempt to move it from her throat. Freddy's eyes flashed with a red light of rage.

"Don't you tell me what's 'not' you lying little _cunt_!" A flick of his arm sent Katherine crashing into the wall above the bed, making her gasp in pain as she slid down to land heavily on it. A small puff of ash flew up and made her roughly cough again, hard enough that she was forced to close her eyes. She opened them; Freddy was standing in front of her, leaning forward so all she could see was his furious bloodshot eyes surrounded by peeling red and black skin. "You _betrayed_ ME for that _BITCH_!"

Katherine couldn't take it anymore and the words exploded out from her throat, spittle flying into Freddy's face: "GODDAMMIT, DAD, IT _WASN'T_ **ME**!"

Reaching forward, Katherine grabbed the collar of her father's shirt and simultaneously shoved him away and pulled him close so she could get to her feet but still keep him in front of her. "If you just checked your goddamn facts, you'd see that _I_ wasn't the one who told the police!" she shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. "It was that nosy neighbor, Mrs. Grey in 1430! She saw you strangling mother _in plain view in the backyard_ and called the police; they had no _idea_ you'd hurt those kids until you started _ranting_ and _raving_ at them during the interrogation, taking pride in your actions, saying that there was no _way_ you'd _ever_ be caught and kept! I didn't even SUGGEST I saw it until years later, when _you_ showed me that memory AGAIN!"

Suddenly breaking out into sobs, Katherine released her father and collapsed on the bed, burying her face in her hands as she tried and failed to control herself. There, she'd said it, she'd told him the truth. She didn't even give a fuck if he killed her for talking to him like that; she was no longer harboring that secret so close to her heart, close enough that she couldn't even find it in her to tell Tracy and Doc after her memories returned in full and she had finished reading what official reports she could find.

Instead of feeling her father hurting her, hearing him scream at her for yelling at him or keeping this from him or anything else, seeing his fury, Katherine heard a whispery voice that barely ghosted past her ear softly announcing, _"She tells…the truth…"_

Still crying, although not quite as harsh as before, Katherine lifted her head to see who spoke (because that voice was female and _not_ her father) only to be stunned when she realized her father had collapsed to his knees, staring in dawning horror at Katherine on top of the expected, raging anger.

"You're…not lying," he breathed in a voice that was startlingly human. Katherine didn't bother to move as her father's thoughts whirled behind his eyes, which were once more the familiar icy blue she remembered from her earliest memories; his normally confident face crumbled. "Katherine…"

"I could have never told on you," she announced, rubbing at her eyes. It was useless as she continued to cry, her voice choked. "You were my…dad. You took care of me, played with me, protected me so carefully. Mom was just there, sometimes, but whenever she spotted me she ignored me or was completely awkward. She came home from work only to eat and sleep, barely talking to us. But you…"

Katherine took a long, shaking breath, struggling to keep her voice steady as memories that were once forgotten flooded back with crippling force. "You…were always _there_. Even if you were tired after work…or left every so often in the evenings to do—_that_," her voice was torn between disgust, awe, sorrow, and a surprisingly large amount of indifference, "you still always found time for me…just _me_. You were there when I fell asleep, when I woke up, on my birthday, at my ballet recitals even though I was only three and could barely do anything with it…you…"

Again Katherine took a deep breath, voice dropping to a whisper. "You were my dad. You were my protector. You were my…everything."

Figuring she was already neck-deep, Katherine threw caution to the wind and began sobbing again, throwing herself upon the ghastly form of her deceased father. Her head buried in his shoulder, hands clenching at the back as she wrapped her arms around him, she cried and cried and cried. She was blearily aware of the coarse fabric softening beneath her grip and the smell of death and fire fading into the background. She felt hesitant arms wrap around her in return and she was rocked from side to side, a hand smoothing her hair and her father's normal, human voice muttering what she took to be nonsense in her ear. A sniveling laugh escaped when she realized most of the "nonsense" was death threats and promises of torture for others on her behalf.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Katherine mumbled with a far-from-attractive snuffle. "S-so sorry."

"I'll make the asshole that told me you were the one who ratted me out 'sorry,'" Freddy furiously promised in her ear, his voice revealed to truly be the gruff but _human_ tenor she remembered him using before he was killed rather than the demonic growl she had become used to. "He still lives on _my_ street…got a pretty little daughter, too, see how _he_ likes it when I torture him with thoughts a _her_ bein' something he hates…"

Katherine stifled a watery laugh, shaking her head, and she felt Freddy's body relax at the sound. "Surprised you haven't yelled at me yet for calling ya Katherine," he continued. "Thought you hated that."

"I decided that…changing the name doesn't change me," Katherine admitted, not pulling away yet. She was scared at what she would face when she did—the visage of the man whom tried to kill her two years ago, or the countenance of the man whom had raised her with such care yet died with such anger at the world. "Besides…someone once told me that being a Krueger is in my blood…and you can't run away from your blood."

Freddy sucked in a breath, then barked a laugh—not a sadistic chuckle but a genuine, amused laugh. Katherine was spared from commenting when she realized her sight of the dirty rusted wall with the workbench was starting to blur.

"You're wakin' up, kiddo," said Freddy needlessly. He hesitated a moment, grasp shifting slightly, before he gruffly told her, "I ain't in the habit of apologizing…"

"You wouldn't need to even if you were," whispered Katherine. She turned her head just enough to catch sight of white-blond hair as she kissed a sharp, unblemished cheekbone gently. "Good morning, Dad."

Before her eyes the white-blond hair disappeared, the skin turned into flaking red and black flesh, and a demonic voice growled in her ear, "Welllll…it definitely won't be for a certain police chief I've seen around Hell…"

Katherine woke up with oddly comforting, murderous laughter ringing in her ears.

-Nightmare in Camp Blood...Sort Of.-

MKL's Post-Production Notes (12-19-12): I spent quite a while trying to make this less cliche and more realistic for Freddy's and Katherine's characters. I'm not sure how much I like the final product, but it's decent and works. Hope you all enjoyed. :)


	5. Routine

_A Nightmare in Camp Blood  
__...Sort Of_

**Routine**

If Katherine thought her schedule before the reconciliation with her father had been strange, after it was even stranger. During the day, she was stalked by an undead serial killer that occasionally just showed up in the mornings covered in fresh blood and/or with a few would-be-fatal wounds on his body that Katherine took it upon herself to stitch up. If Jason wasn't there to follow her about her routine, Pam was in her head happily chatting away (thankfully not mentioning subject of family outside of Jason since the minor breakdown). This meant Katherine got very little time alone but it wasn't annoying as it could possibly be. Instead she felt perpetually protected , like no matter where she was or what she did, everything would be fine.

Other than being stalked, Katherine spent a lot of time hiking through the woods or swimming in the lake (Jason was always rather anxious when she did and disappeared to stand on the lake bottom as if that would somehow help her if she began to struggle) or reading books/case files. One in particular had caught her attention, that of a young man who had PTSD after being the only survivor out of a group excepting his girlfriend and a bunch of kids from the bloody rampage of a serial killer near a lake that wore a hockey mask…

The night, however, was a totally different issue. After that emotion-charged first dream (Freddy would have liked to call it a 'nightmare' despite the lack of true terror), Freddy had gone mostly back to his normal, wisecracking, creepy-perverted, hardass self—just now with an interest in teaching his newly re-connected daughter how to manipulate dreams. He had tried to get her to actually kill but Katherine refused—she found herself more blasé with death since she had first faced off against him, but she was positively repulsed by the idea of even helping to _plan_ the end of another person's life.

Freddy grumbled about it for quite a while, but eventually gave in to Katherine's wishes, ignoring the smug smile she wore for the rest of that particular dream.

So the routine had been set for a few days when, of course, something came to ruin it.

The lake was dark and misty that night. Katherine walked along the lakeshore, feet bare, sidestepping stones and humming softly to herself in confusion. She was sure that she had been talking to Jason just moments before…but he'd suddenly disappeared. Was he off killing a trespasser? Pam hadn't mentioned anything, but it was possible. He did just randomly walk off sometimes.

Come to think of it, she hadn't heard from Pam in a while, either. Why was this

"Maggie…"

Katherine stopped short at the voice. Who was calling out her adoptive name?

"Maggie…"

"That's not my name anymore," she responded evenly. "Where are you?"

"Behind you, Maggie," said the voice, suddenly not far off as it had been but instead right over her shoulder. Katherine smoothly turned and stared in surprise at the older woman in front of her, probably about forty but with stress lines clear on her face, clad entirely in the pure white robes of a nun. The woman had a stern expression that quickly turned into a tight smile. "Hello, dear."

Katherine's eyes narrowed as they stared into ones that were somehow familiar…

"Do I know you?" the young Krueger slowly asked. The woman's smile fell and she sighed.

"I suppose not technically, no." She paused. "I am Sister Mary Helena."

"Nice to meet you," Katherine replied robotically. No need to be rude no matter how strange this woman was. "Excuse me, but what are you doing here? This is private property, Sister."

"And yet you seem to be here as well, despite it being 'private'," said Sister Mary Helena with that tight smile of earlier. Katherine couldn't stop herself from fidgeting at the slight admonishment but Sister Mary Helena said no more on it; instead she turned away from Katherine, staring out over the lake thoughtfully. "But that is not why I am here. I am here for a much different, much more important reason."

Katherine frowned. "And that is…?"

Sister Mary Helena was silent for a moment before turning sharply to face Katherine, stern, warning, suddenly the very image of a disapproving older woman. "Freddy Krueger has returned."

There was a pregnant pause.

"…and?" was what Katherine eventually asked, folding her arms and frowning. Sister Mary Helena seemed taken aback but Katherine was too busy wondering, "How the hell do you even _know_ that?"

The nun before her seemed unable to respond right off before she finally said, voice trembling, "You…are not surprised, Maggie?"

"No." Katherine scowled. "And I already told you, my name isn't Maggie. I'm Katherine. Katherine _Krueger_."

Sister Mary Helena slowly narrowed her eyes and all traces of kindness she may have held were gone. "You are on his side, now," she said evenly, voice of steel. Katherine narrowed her own eyes back.

"I'm on no one's side."

"Then kill him once more, before he gets any more victims!"

"Kill him?" echoed Katherine, barking a laugh of disbelief. "Sister, forgive me, but you have _no_ idea who you're talking about, do you?" A turn and Katherine locked eyes with the nun, taking advantage of her slightly more impressive height to loom over her warningly. "This man you're talking about is Fred Krueger, the Bastard Son of One Hundred Maniacs, the Dream Demon, the ultimate Nightmare of Elm Street—"

"I know who he is!" snapped Sister Mary Helena, eyes blazing in anger that was unbefitting of a child of God. Katherine scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Then you know he's harder to kill than a cockroach. He's died on the mortal plane at least eight times that I know of alone; what makes you think _this_ time he'll stay down any more than before? What's more," Katherine took a single step forward, smirking ferally in her best imitation of her father, "maybe I don't _want_ to stop him. Maybe I want him to stay killing, gaining strength, so he can take revenge on _everyone_ for what happened!" She leaned closer, her eyes level with Sister Mary Helena, burning with resolve. "Every town has an Elm Street, Sister. And I do believe he plans to take advantage of _every single one_. Who am I, a lone mortal, to try and stop him? _Especially_ when it has _never_ worked before."

Neither woman's gaze wavered, sparks dancing between them, and eventually Sister Mary Helena took a single step back. "He has gotten to you. You are being fooled, Maggie Burroughs…_Katherine Krueger_. You'll see soon enough what a monster he truly is."

Between one blink and the next the woman disappeared and Katherine was left alone, staring at where Sister Mary Helena had been, certain it had not been an illusion despite all evidence to the contrary. She was nearly in tears from saying things she only half-meant…what she had just declared honestly _scared her_. It wasn't her…

Or was it?

Taking a deep breath, Katherine turned away from the spot she had met the Sister, moving deeper into the woods. She needed time to think.

-Nightmare in Camp Blood...Sort Of.-

MKL's Post-Production Notes (5-7-13): Is it obvious this is my first time working on this story in a while? -awkward laughter- Review if you have the time~ ^.^


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